


Plaything

by BirdOfHermes



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Belligerent Sexual Tension, Blackfrost - Freeform, Captasha - Freeform, F/M, Fighting Kink, Loki has a hatecrush, Love Triangles, Love/Hate, Nat's mostly just confused and angry, Sparring, romanogers - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-03-10 00:23:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13492932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BirdOfHermes/pseuds/BirdOfHermes
Summary: The last time Loki underestimated Natasha Romanov, he ended up revealing his master plan. Apparently, he hasn't learned his lesson yet. Minor spoilers for Thor: Ragnarok and Captain America: Civil War.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A few things:
> 
> 1) It's always been a headcanon of mine that after the first Avengers where Nat hands Loki his own ass back to him in that masterful interrogation scene, Loki has a serious hatecrush on her. I mean, come on. Loki seems to enjoy being smacked around by women, from Jane Foster to Valkyrie, so it kind of makes sense. 
> 
> 2) This is post Thor: Ragnarok and Civil War, but pre-Infinity War. Let's pretend the Avengers kissed and made up so they're all back at the Avengers facility for now.
> 
> 3) I cannot possibly be the only one who thinks there would be mad belligerent sexual tension if Loki and Nat were ever in a room together again alone.

_"Well, just because she feeds me well_  
_And she made me talk dirty in a pink hotel_  
_It doesn't mean she's got eyes for me_  
_She might just want my bones, you see_  
_And hey, flathead, don't you get mean_  
_She's the second best killer that I ever have seen_  
_It don't come much more sick than you_  
_I could go on if you want me to..."_  
_-"Flathead" by the Fratellis_

"...38...39...40..."

Her muscles burn, but it's the good kind of burn. A familiar, almost reassuring ache. She likes exercise. It's challenging and gives her something to focus on. When all is lost and the world seems askew, she can rely on one thing to feel normal, and that's exercise. Chin ups are a particular favorite of hers, mostly because it's always amusing to enter into ridiculous contests with the boys and to whip them every time. Well, except for Steve. Tony had been the first to bow out, but that made sense; he wasn't an upper body kind of guy. Clint had been next, then Sam. Vision abstained, naturally. Bruce was still politely keeping his distance from her. She and Steve decided it was a tie. As for Thor, well, he'd been busy getting the Asgardians all settled in, but she had the feeling he might be the only one to beat her.

"...49...50..."

Natasha stills her compact, curvy frame for a moment and raises her voice. "If you're going to try to sneak up on someone, don't wear cologne."

"My dear Agent Romanov," the God of Mischief purrs from the doorway to the gym. "What on earth makes you think I was trying to sneak up on you? As if I could ever fool the Black Widow herself."

She rolls her green eyes and continues her pull ups, grinding out another twenty-five. She's not stupid. Loki is a snake--literally, if Thor's traumatic childhood stories are to be believed--and she knows showing him her back is presenting him with a prime opportunity to stick one of his daggers in it. However, it violates the incredibly thin and wary treaty they'd made by allowing him to stay in the Avengers' facility until Thor and the other Asgardians could find a permanent home. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, as the old saying goes. If left untethered, there's no telling what Loki could do, and God forbid the public found out he was on earth again. They'd string him up in seconds.

Sheer stubbornness is the only reason why she allows the God of Mischief to stroll into the gym and casually lean against the wall to watch her exercise. She feels his gaze on her body like a million fireants. He's not fooling anyone, especially not her. He's biding his time, being patient, waiting for them to underestimate him. Thor is a kind, gentle soul. At his heart, he wants to forgive his brother and love him like he did in the olden days.

Natasha knows better. People don't change.

"Can I help you with something?" she says, lifting her chin defiantly up and glancing at him in the mirror before her.

"You're doing that already," Loki drawls, smirking as his eyes caress her backside.

She drops from the bar and grabs a towel, facing him with an arch look. "Really? The God of Mischief is an ass man, huh?"

"Why, Agent Romanov, you offend me. I'm merely admiring your strength. I'd do nothing so untoward, not with your so-called Avengers mere rooms away, ready to pounce if you call for them."

Nat snorts and squirts some water from her bottle into her mouth. "You really overestimate yourself. You wouldn't get to the rest of the team. I could flatten you all by myself."

Loki's green eyes flash with anger and challenge and arrogance. She lifts her eyebrows, waiting. "You don't believe me?"

"Perhaps I'm not the only one overestimating," he replies, and then smirks again. "Natasha."

"Is that a challenge, Loki?"

He spreads his hands. "Now why would I do a thing like that? It's a no-win scenario for me. If you win, I suffer the humiliation of being defeated by a mortal woman. If I win, you bat those pretty eyes and your compatriots show up and bludgeon me to death. I'd rather not, my dear."

"You seem to be stuck in this mentality that I'm a damsel of sorts," she said, one hand on her hip, flicking a stray red hair out of her eyes. "Like I can't hold my own. Like I haven't beaten the ass of you, your Chitauri, and an army of robots before. Why don't you just admit that you don't think you can take me so I can shower and get on with the rest of my day?"

"Take you?" Loki pushes off from the wall and chuckles. His gaze glides over her sweaty forehead, her lazy relaxed-predator posture, the expression that says she'll tear him asunder without batting an eyelash. "My, aren't we being forward?"

Natasha's lip twitches upward to one side. She walks towards him, rolling her hips, her gait easy and slow and deliberate. "What's the matter, Loki? Not up to the challenge?"

She sticks one finger in the collar of his tunic and jerks him down towards her face, until they're millimeters apart, until she can smell his exotic cologne and he can smell the fabric softener in her tank top. "Afraid of this mewling quim?"

Loki grins. "Not hardly, Agent Romanov."

His hand whips upward to grab for her throat, but by then she's already moved. She whirls around him and kicks his right knee, twisting his arm behind his back hard so it looks like a chicken wing. Loki grunts as his knee hits the mat and Natasha smirks.

"Look who's kneeling now, big man."

He lashes his free hand out and grabs her ankle, slinging her across the room. She flies a couple of feet and lands neatly in a crouch, her gaze steady on him as he lunges for her. He focuses on her body, taking shots to weaken her ribs or immobilize her arms, but she's too fast for that. Every blow grazes or hits nothing but air. He's the opposite of Thor--a tactician, using misdirection and agility rather than strength and power. It's similar to Clint's fighting style, only Loki's movements aren't as precise. She sees the raw hunger in his gaze, the need to overpower, to conquer, to defeat. It almost makes her smile.

She throws her legs up around his neck and slams his head into the mat, twisting her body so she's riding him from behind. "That's two, God of Mischief. Shall we go for three?"

Loki chuckles again. He jabs an elbow into her stomach and rolls, pinning her wrists to the floor and straddling her waist. He smiles down at her, arrogance beaming from those hard green orbs.

"One for me."

"Take a good look," she whispers. "It's the only time you'll be on top."

He leans in, his posture changing to something more animalistic, the shadows of the gym shifting over his classic princely features. His grip on her wrists tightens and his knee slides up between her legs.

"What a pity," Loki murmurs. "You are so very pretty on your back, Agent Romanov. But I'm sure you've heard that before."

She headbutts him. Loki flinches, hissing in pain, and she grabs him in a headlock, wrapping her legs around his waist and throwing all her weight to one side. She slams him to the mat for a final time, her hands splayed over his chest, panting slightly, her voice quivering with a strange mixture of anger, pride, and excitement.

"And that's three. You lose."

She expects him to scowl, but he doesn't. He doesn't shove her off either. "What an interesting mortal you are. Perhaps I have misjudged you, Agent Romanov. I concede. You are as formidable as you look."

"And don't you forget it."

"I wouldn't dream of such a thing."

She eyes him. "Why did you really come down here, Loki?"

He pushes up on his hands slowly until he's inches away, and she's still in his lap. Something in his gaze makes her want to shiver. It's not entirely unpleasant, to her dismay. His eyes dart down to her lips for a split second and he grins that serpentine grin of his again.

"Thank you for your cooperation, Agent Romanov."

She opens her mouth to shoot a rude response at him, but he suddenly grips her waist and stands in an effortless, smooth motion, picking her up as if she weighs nothing and gently placing her on her feet in front of him. Her jaw drops as he picks up her hand, kisses the back of it, and strolls out of the gym, chuckling quietly to himself.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha and Thor finally have their chin up contest and someone makes an (unwanted) guest appearance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOPS MY HAND SLIPPED AND THIS BECAME A MULTI CHAPTER THINGY SORRY Y'ALL.
> 
> Side note: actually, I think Thor and Nat have interacted the least out of all the Avengers, so I wanted to write a scene I've always thought would be a lot of fun. Thor and Nat are polar opposites, and for this reason, I think they'd be friends. Like a cute brother/sister kind of thing, honestly.

_It’s driving me outta my mind_  
_That’s why it’s hard for me to find_  
_Can’t get it outta my head_  
_Miss her, kiss her, love her_  
_That girl is poison…_  
_-“That Girl is Poison” by Bel Biv Devoe_

“Thor.”

It’s taken concerted effort to keep Natasha from grinning. The God of Thunder has that kind of effect on everyone except his brother.

“Agent Romanov,” Thor says, smirking as he steps up next to her by the parallel bars.

“Natasha,” she says, smirking right back. “Everyone but your brother is allowed to call me Natasha. You can even call me Nat or Tasha, provided that you beat me.”

“Oh, that will be a most worthy prize,” Thor says, rolling his shoulders and stretching his biceps back and forth. It’s mildly distracting, but she’s almost sure he’s not doing it on purpose. “My father taught me to never assume familiarity with a lady. I have to earn it.”

“When I meet a lady, I’ll let you know.”

Thor chuckles, his single eye twinkling merrily. “As you wish, Agent Romanov. Shall we begin?”

“Let’s. Been looking forward to this. It’s too easy to beat the pants off those wimps.”

“Hopefully,” he said, reaching up to grip the higher bar. “I’ll be able to present you with a challenge for once. There are few who can defeat you.”

Nat jumps up and grabs the bar. “Ready?”

“Aye.”

They start doing pull ups. Nat powers through the first hundred smoothly, as does Thor. She doesn’t start to feel the burn, as the cliché goes, until she’s rounding the next fifty. A steady strain settles into her shoulder blades, so she decides to strike up a conversation to distract herself.

“So,” Natasha says casually. “Loki made a pass at me the other day.”

Thor stops dead on his way back up, his head snapping to one side to look at her, and there is hellfire in his single baby blue. “Loki did _what?_ ”

“Or at least I think that was his version of a pass,” she explains. “It’s hard to tell with you Asgardians. He’s not nearly as obvious as you and Valkyrie.”

Thor sputters. “Excuse me? We’re not—I-I have no intentions for her—”

“See?” Nat teases, grinning as he blushes. “Obvious.”

“I'm not obvious,” Thor mutters. “Anyway, what did he do?”

“He challenged me. We wrestled. I won, but I felt like it wasn’t about winning somehow. I thought he was trying to get revenge for the Chitauri attack. Loki seems the type to take things personally.”

“That he does,” Thor agrees. “It’s not out of the question that he…made a pass at you, was it? Loki likes strong women. He certainly knows you’d never entertain such a thought, but that doesn’t mean he won’t try it anyway. Besides, his ego dictates most of his actions. He enjoys winding people up.”

“Hmm,” Nat says thoughtfully.

Thor pauses and then smiles slightly. “And, no offense, you are also quite beautiful. It comes as no surprise he noticed that as well.”

“You charmer, you,” she says. “Not trying to make me lose focus because you’re getting tired, are you?”

“Tired?” Thor scoffs. “Look at this. Not even breaking a sweat yet. By the way, where are we?”

“Somewhere in the mid-two-hundred range,” she replies. “So you don’t think he’s trying for a backstab, do you?”

“Loki is always looking for somewhere to stick a knife,” Thor said, warm anger in his tone. “But in your case, I would say the percentage is greatly diminished. He’s the God of Mischief. He just wants mischief.”

“That I can provide in spades.”

“If his advances annoy you, I would be happy to hold him down while you beat him senseless.”

Natasha laughs. “As appealing as that sounds, there’s no need. If he tries again, I’ll shut him down. I was just curious. It’s not every day a girl catches the eye of a demigod.”

Thor grins. “Untrue. Once I take you over to meet the Asgardians, I am most certain you’ll receive a couple dozen marriage proposals.”

Again, Natasha laughs. “I’ll have to beat them off with a stick, huh?”

“You won’t be needing a stick, I assure you,” Loki says from right behind them.

Natasha jerks, her head whipping around to spot the God of Mischief standing there, grinning that devious grin of his. She tries to mask her surprise, but she already knows it’s too late. He knows. She scowls and Thor aims a glare at his brother.

“Loki,” Thor growls. “The lady and I are having a conversation, to which you are _not_ invited.”

Loki spreads his arms. “This is a public place, is it not?”

Thor rolls his lone eye. “Actually, no, it isn’t. It’s a private facility for a private conversation.”

Loki clucks his tongue. “My, my, Thor. Valkyrie will be terribly jealous to know you’re having private moments with Agent Romanov.”

Thor sputters again, and as annoyed as Natasha is, it’s still utterly adorable. “Valkyrie has no concerns about me and what I do on my own time whatsoever.”

Loki folds his hands behind his back, the smugness practically radiating off of him. “Oh? Is that why she sent me looking for you?”

Thor immediately drops to the ground, intrigued. “She’s looking for me?”

“Yes. She’s in the kitchen, raiding the Avengers’ bar by now, I assume.”

“You could have led with that,” Thor grumbles. He glances at Natasha and she smiles.

“Go ahead. We’ll have a rematch later.”

“Thank you, Agent Romanov.” He starts for the door, but shoots her another playful smirk. “Just so you know, I was totally winning.”

Natasha snorts. “You wish, Lord of Thunder.”

He scowls at that, but nods to her, glaring at Loki one last time, and then strolls out of the gym. Natasha swings her body so that she’s facing Loki and pulls herself all the way up until she’s sitting atop the bar, her expression cool. “You missed your exit, Loki.”

“Did I?” he says, feigning innocence. “Am I not allowed to have one of these highly coveted ‘private’ conversations with you, Agent Romanov?”

“Not especially. What makes you think I want to hear anything you have to say?”

“Well, considering I just bailed you out of a contest you couldn’t hope to win, perhaps you’d like to thank me.”

Natasha glares then. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, come off it,” Loki scoffs. “Thor is all muscle and no brains. He could do these insipid chin ups for literally hours without end and not bat an eye. Why do you insist on such a contest, anyhow? Are you not the Black Widow? Do your strengths not lie in your cleverness?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I happen to think it’s fun,” she says, crossing her arms. “But it’s not something you’d know about.”

Loki’s smile returns, and it’s so wicked she damn near wants to report it to the FCC. “I fear you underestimate me, Agent Romanov.”

She shakes her head slightly. “What do you want, Loki? A real answer, this time. Do you just want to irritate me so I’ll beat you again? Do you get off on that sort of thing?”

“Why, Natasha, I am offended,” he says, touching his chest as if she’d wounded him. “I am a perfect gentleman. I would never do such a thing to a lady.”

“What is it with the sons of Odin and this whole ‘lady’ business? Do I look like I want to be treated like a lady?”

Loki shrugs. “Perhaps not, but our upbringing demands such a declaration.”

She tips her body backward, her knees catching her weight, throwing her into a backflip. She lands neatly on the floor and eyes him, her voice mild. “And what part of your upbringing demanded that you slaughter innocent people and try to take over the earth?”

He brandishes his hands at himself. “I am the God of Mischief, after all. I crave conquest.”

She steps in close, tilting her head slightly. “And is that why you keep darkening my doorstep, Loki? Conquest?”

He chuckles, and it feels like he’s drawn a finger down her spine. “Do you not seek the same, Agent Romanov? What is a spider without something to prey upon?”

“And, what? You want me to prey on you?” She snorts. “Trust me, Loki. You couldn’t handle it if I bothered to give you my full attention.”

Something in his posture changes at her words. He shifts his upper body until he’s leaning over her petite but powerful frame, and she doesn’t react as he slides one hand over her hip. “How else will you know unless you try?”

She doesn’t break his predatory gaze. Perhaps he’s expecting her to knock his hand away and storm off in a huff. Perhaps he thinks she’ll throw him into an arm lock that will dislocate his shoulder.

Instead, she smiles up at him, her lashes lowering over her eyes, hovering just close enough that a deep inhale will bring their lips together. “Don’t hold your breath.”

She slinks past him towards the door, smirking to herself as she can feel those jade green eyes coveting her as she goes.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Avengers have an assignment that requires a certain assassin and a certain God of Mischief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had entirely too much fun coming up with insulting nicknames from Tony. Please let this happen at least once in Infinity War. You know, before it all goes to shit and I have to go to therapy for the rest of my life.

_"She was breaking my bones when_

_I was busting their noses_

_She would tell me a secret_

_I would lose it the next day_

_Young love pleases you easy_

_Makes you sick in a bad way..."_

_-"For the Girl" by the Fratellis_

 

"So," Tony says, folding his arms over his chest. "We've got a problem. Potentially a big one."

He flicks a hand and FRIDAY brings up a hologram schematic of a complicated weapon. "This is alien tech from the Chitauri attack. We've managed to recover a lot of it over the last few years, but some stuff slips between the cracks, as my clever little web-slinger friend demonstrated not long ago. This, however, has the potential for possible nuclear engagement, and we've gotten a tip that it's about to be sold by the one and only Hydra."

Immediately, everyone in the room but Loki stiffens. Steve clenches his jaw, nodding towards the schematic. "When's the meet?"

Tony checks his watch. "Four hours. Seedy side of Brooklyn."

Steve crosses his arms. "And what's the plan? Surround them, take the weapons back?"

"That would've been the plan a couple years ago, Cap," Tony says, a slight edge to his voice, but it's gone in a second. "Now half of us are wanted fugitives. We can't go topside. Hydra's on the run as well, but they know law enforcement would stop everything to go after you guys if they saw you. Best bet is infiltration."

Cap arches an eyebrow. "How? None of us have secret identities, Tony."

"No," he says, and his brown eyes slide towards one end of the table. "But two of us have a reputation for playing with the big, bad boys and would believably be looking for high powered weapons."

Natasha bristles. "Gee, Stark, tell me how you really feel about me."

"No offense, Nat, but since you dumped everything online, no one would bat an eye if the Black Widow became a double agent."

Tony's eyes narrow as they slide over to Loki, who has been leaning against the far wall brooding and acting disinterested in being dragged to a meeting. "And if we're going to sell that you've gone to the Dark Side, why not invite Lord Vader himself?"

"I'm a god, not a lord," Loki snarls. "Tin man."

"It's a reference, Severus Snape, chill out," Tony says, rolling his eyes.

"Regardless, I am not going on a mission for you. I despise every last one of you."

"The feeling's mutual, I assure you," Tony says dryly. "But for once, you can actually be useful, so maybe just shut up and do what we tell you to do. You know, unless you'd like the US government to find out where you are by mysterious circumstances."

Loki pushes off from the wall and balls his hands into fists. "Are you blackmailing me, little man?"

"I prefer extortion," Tony continues blithely. "The X makes it sound cooler."

Loki steps forward and the remaining Avengers tense...except for Natasha. She walks in front of him and Loki freezes, his frosty green eyes snapping down to look at her.

"Loki," she says calmly. "Thor told us that you're on loan until the citizens of Asgard find a permanent home. You're under our jurisdiction. You do as we say, or you go to prison."

She smirks. "Or we could always reunite you and the Hulk again, if you'd prefer."

Loki doesn't quite swallow, but he does flick his gaze over to Bruce, who waves cheerfully. The demigod scowls around at the Avengers, realizing he's hopelessly outnumbered. "Very well. I will escort the Widow for the acquisition of this weapon."

"Great," Tony says without an ounce of sincerity. "I guess it goes without saying that if you in any way endanger her, or hell, just get on her nerves, we'll let the Hulk play bongos with your kidneys, right?"

Loki rolls his eyes. "Yes, tin man. I'll be the perfect gentleman."

"That I'd like to see," Tony snorts, and then slides a couple of ear pieces across the table. "Suit up and meet her in the hanger in two hours, Grima Wormtongue."

Loki scoops it up, stuffs it in his ear, and sends a knife-edged smile at Tony. "Keep calling me outside of my name and you'll regret it, Stark."

"I'm shaking in my boots, Tommy Wiseau. Get lost."

-

"I have no idea why you endure such things," Loki grumbles, peering at Natasha from across the limousine. "It's an utter waste of time. Why worry about keeping a single gun off the streets when you have larger matters to attend to?"

"Because if you do nothing and something bad happens, it's your fault," Natasha says, applying her lipstick in the overhead mirror. "The Avengers try to save the world, but it's not always about space battles. Every day people get hurt whenever Hydra's around, and this weapon can hurt a lot of them. We owe them our protection."

"Even though they've turned against you?" Loki says, his tone thick with mockery. "You're back to being a criminal again, Natasha. What love have you for these people you so nobly serve?"

"They don't need to love me," she replies, smacking her lips to spread the lipstick evenly. "They just need to be safe."

"Leave the altruism to the super soldier," Loki says, sitting back in his seat and crossing one leg. "You are not as heroic as you think."

Natasha pushes the mirror back up into the ceiling, glaring daggers at the demigod. "Yes, because you just know me inside and out, don't you?"

Loki smiles slowly. "I know more than you think, Agent Romanov. For example, I haven't failed to notice that you enjoy our little tete-a-tetes."

She arched an eyebrow. "Do I?"

"Yes," he drawls. "Because we both know you could have put your lipstick on back at the facility where you applied the rest of your makeup. You chose do that here to taunt me."

Natasha stares at him, then smirks. "Clever. Or maybe I'm just forgetful."

Loki's green eyes glint dangerously. "I highly doubt it. Admit it. You are intrigued by me, Natasha."

She crosses her arms and stares silently back at him until the limo stops. Loki snorts to himself and opens the door, spilling them out into the cool night air. Natasha pulls her overcoat closer around her body as they head inside the back of a shipping warehouse near the docks. She gestures as if she's brushing her hair over one ear, but she actually activates the ear piece.

"Moving in," she mutters under her breath.

"Read you loud and clear, Romanov," Steve answers. "How was the ride in?"

Natasha cuts her eyes over the scowling demigod. "Bumpy."

"What?" Tony asks. "Did you throw Loki out of the limo and run him over? Did someone film it? Is it on Youtube yet?"

"Cease your infernal commentary until you have some useful to say," Loki hisses, opening the second door for Natasha.

"Loki's right," Steve cuts in. "Radio silence until they've got eyes on the prize. Be safe, Nat."

She almost smiles. "Roger that, Rogers."

Steve chuckles softly and then the line goes quiet. Loki and Nat give the password to a hulking man in a suit armed with an assault rifle at the final door and then walk into the main part of the warehouse. There is a small throng of people gathered around a table that has a faint blue glow to it. A short blond man with a German accent is explaining the features of the weapon when he spots them and goes silent, swallowing hard.

"Excuse me," he barks. "This is a private affair and you are very public figures."

"No shit," one of the criminals says, reaching beneath his coat. "That's freaking Natasha Romanov, the Black Widow. How the hell did one of the Avengers get in here?"

"Didn't you hear, big boy?" Natasha purrs. "The Avengers disbanded. Half the team's on the run. It's a new world out there. Girl's gotta eat."

The same criminal nods towards Loki, who towered behind her. "And what about the Asgardian?"

Loki gives him a cold, dismissive look. "I'm just looking for a bit of fun. Besides, the lady needed an escort."

The guy whistles. "Lady's got a hold on a demigod? Black Widow indeed."

"They are not invited," the German guy growls. "You've jeopardized our organization."

"Then make this quick so we're out of your hair," Natasha says. "A million for the weapon, right here, right now."

The German eyes her, but she can tell his interest is piqued. He glances at the other people, but none of them make a counteroffer. He adjusts his glasses, frowning, but he nods.

"Acceptable. Do you have the funds on hand?"

Natasha digs a thumb drive out of her pocket. "All ready for the wire transfer right here."

The German takes a last look around at the others, but none of them speak up. "Sold. Place the drive here, Fraulein."

He points to the laptop beside the weapon. She inserts the drive and hits a couple keys. The wire transfer goes through. Loki steps forward, shuts the case containing the weapon, and takes it from the table.

"Pleasure doing business, gentlemen," Natasha smiles. "Auf wiedersehen."

She glides out of the door, Loki at her heels. Once they're out of the earshot of anyone in the warehouse, Stark pipes up.

"Nice work, Romanov. FRIDAY's already in there, tracing everything and infecting their system. You guys might want to haul ass before they catch on."

She hears shouts a moment later and then the men burst out into the night, guns drawn, searching for them. Nat curses under her breath and grabs Loki's coat, yanking down and between the yachts floating in the harbor. She draws her own gun, searching for a clean exit as she hears the men shoot out the tires to their limo.

"Nat, what's going on?" Steve's worried voice fills her ears.

"Uh," Nat says. "We're improvising. No big deal."

"I'm on my way," Stark says. "Sit tight."

"This is nonsense," Loki hisses. "I can dispatch these simpletons. We don't need the tin man."

"There's twelve of them and two of us. If they overwhelm us, all they have to do is drop us in the harbor and we're dead. Stay down."

Loki growls something under his breath. Nat tenses as she hears footsteps closer to the plank they had slipped onto. She's about to take aim when Loki's arm slides around her waist and he makes a spectacular leap onto the yacht beside them. The boat rocks to one side as they land on the deck, but it stabilizes.

"Can you drive this monstrosity?" Loki asks.

"Yeah," she says, walking over to the cabin. "Untie the line and let's get the hell out of here."

"Gladly," Loki says. He darts over to the yacht's bow and the man below opens fire. Loki flicks his wrist and one of his daggers spears the man through the throat, and he collapses to the deck, gurgling. Loki slashes at the line with his other dagger just as Natasha fires up the engine and they pull away from the harbor.

The men race along the decks nearby, firing wildly, but it's too dark and the yacht reaches cruising speed as it heads out into the bay.

Nat grins widely as the salty air brushes her hair back, touching the ear piece. "Cancel the rescue mission, Stark. We're good."

"You sure, Romanov? You sounded pretty damsel-y back there," Tony teases.

"You wish, shellhead. Sorry about your limo."

"What happened to the limo?!"

"Well, the idiots are probably taking their frustrations out on it as we speak."

Tony sighs. "This is what I get for bankrolling you people. Alright, let me know when you're back on land and I'll send another limo around. You break this one, you buy it."

"Nice work, guys," Steve says, good humor and pride in his voice. "Get home safe."

"Will do, Rogers."

The comm-link falls silent again and all she can hear is the smooth rush of the boat riding across the inky black ocean waves. She doesn't hear Loki come up next to her; she feels it. He glides into her vision like a shadow, the moonlight illuminating his pale skin.

"Where are we heading?"

She points east. "Should be someplace to settle over there."

"Good." He pauses, and that sly look returns. "You're welcome, by the way."

"Saw that coming. You're becoming predictable, Loki."

The demigod stiffens and she's not sure why. Maybe she'd hit a sore spot. He opens his mouth to say something, but then a spotlight hits the yacht.

"Shit!" Nat hisses, whipping her head around to see their pursuer. "It's the Coast Guard."

Loki snatches the case up and wrenches the door to the lower deck open, darting inside to hide it. Natasha brings the boat to idle speed and Loki returns with a strange look on his face.

"Do you trust me, Natasha?"

"No," she says frankly. "But what did you have in mind?"

The Coast Guard, a short, stocky black woman, climbs aboard a few moments later, a flashlight in one hand and the other resting on her service weapon. She eyes the empty deck and then knocks hard on the door to the lower deck. "This is the Coast Guard. You are riding through the bay during restricted hours. Exit the cabin or I will have you arrested."

She tenses as the doors open...and then her jaw drops open.

"Oh, gosh!" Nat exclaims, clutching a bed sheet around her bare shoulders. "I'm so, so sorry!"

Loki stands next to her, wearing boxers and looking sheepish and flushed. "Oh, this is dreadfully embarrassing, ma'am. We were on an evening cruise, and well...we got a bit...carried away."

The Coast Guard gives Loki a long glance, biting her lower lip as her flashlight bounces off his carved abs. "Oh, my. Well, it's understandable. It's a full moon out tonight."

She clears her throat. "Look, I can understand a romantic rendezvous, but you are violating the law. I'll let you off the hook as long as you park the boat in the nearest dock, alright?"

"Oh, thank you so much," Natasha gushes. "I promise, we'll never do this again!"

The Coast Guard arches an eyebrow, eyeing Loki again, and her smile is a bit naughty. "Honey, I severely doubt that."

She tips her hat, unties the line connecting her boat, and disappears over the side. Natasha heaves a sigh of relief. Loki leans one shoulder against the wall, smirking down at her.

"See? Perhaps I can be of use to you."

She glares. "My eyes are up here, Loki."

"And what beautiful eyes they are, Natasha." He leans in, placing both arms on either side of her head against the wall. "I can't imagine how many men have fallen into your web after gazing for too long into their depths."

She gives him a sour look. "Leave the poetry to Shakespeare. Let's get dressed and get the hell out of here."

Natasha stomps inside and snatches her dress up, wriggling into it. She feels Loki's hot gaze along her spine, over her bare legs, and pretends it's the cold that makes her shiver. The zipper gets caught and she struggles to finish sliding it up her back.

"Allow me," the God of Mischief purrs into her ear. Goosebumps flood over her arms as his warm breath brushes her nape. He's too damn tall and he's still half-naked and he smells like freshly frozen earth and pine trees. She curses him in every language she knows in her head, but she stands still to let him zip her up.

"I'm not going to fall for your tricks, Loki," she murmurs as he slides the zipper up over her creamy flesh. "You might as well give up now."

"Tricks?" he whispers. "What I have to offer you is more than that and you know it, Natasha."

"Agent Romanov," she snarls. "Don't get familiar."

He laughs that low laugh of his again and something tugs at her belly. "I think it's a bit too late for that, my dear."

She whirls, ready to spit venom at him, but he's already swept away from her, heading up the stairs with another victorious chuckle in his throat.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha receives an uninvited gentleman caller after a mission one night.

_"You put a sour little flavor in my mouth now_

_You move in circles hoping no one's gonna find out_

_But we're so lucky_

_Kiss the ring and let 'em bow down_

_Lookin' for the time of your life_

_A pretty picture, but the scenery is so loud_

_A face like heaven, catching lighting in your nightgown_

_But back away from the water_

_Baby, you might drown_

_The party isn't over tonight_

_Hey, where will you be waking up tomorrow morning?_

_Hey, out the back door, goddamn, but I love her anyway..."_

_-"Miss Jackson" by Panic!at the Disco_

It takes an accomplished liar to recognize another accomplished liar.

Natasha drains the expensive bottle of Vodka and drops it into the garbage bin, exhaling harshly. The alcohol's finally kicking in, thank goodness. She had tried not to drink it that fast, as it increased the potency for her small body when she gulped it down, but she's in considerable pain. And stubborn. Very, very stubborn.

Just as she uncaps the iodine, her doorbell rings. Natasha heaves a sigh and pulls her robe on, tying it closed. She shuffles over to it and opens it.

"Steve, I told you I'm fi--"

She freezes. Loki stands there holding a bottle of expensive Vodka. She narrows her eyes at him.

"Mind telling me what you're doing here?"

He lifts the bottle for emphasis. "I believe they call this a night cap."

"How thoughtful," she says dryly. "Leave the bottle. I prefer my night caps alone."

She reaches for it, but he holds it over her head. "Ah, ah. It's a package deal, darling."

"Has anyone ever hit you over the head with a bottle before?"

Loki grins. "Are you threatening me, Agent Romanov?"

"Always," she growls. Then she sighs and steps to one side. "Fine. One drink and then you leave."

"How very generous of you," Loki muses, walking into her apartment. "The Black Widow's hospitality is as warm as I predicted."

"What did you expect?" she snaps, trying her best to keep her gait smooth as she follows him towards the bar. "You dropped in unannounced. Also, I hate you."

Loki chuckles as he brings two glasses down and pours a generous amount of Vodka in each, sliding it across the bar to her. "Oh, I don't know. Perhaps you'll warm up to me over time."

"Doubtful," she says, draining the glass in one go. "There. That was exactly one drink. Good night, Loki."

He stares at her over the rim of the glass as he takes a deliberately slow sip. His gaze flicks back to the door. "What did the Captain say?"

She frowns. "None of your business."

"I did just risk my life to help you fight a threat. I would call it my business."

She rolls her eyes. "He was giving me the post mission report."

"And does he always do so alone with you in your room?" Loki asks, his stare intense.

Natasha crosses her arms, trying not to wince. "Steve is my friend. He is welcome to come and go as he pleases, unlike some other people in this room."

"I see. And because you are such an accomplished actress, he didn't notice that you're wounded."

She doesn't even bat an eye. "I'm fine."

The second word scarcely leaves her lips before Loki grabs the hem of her robe and jerks it to one side, exposing the long, jagged, bloody cut along her ribs. Faster than he can even see, she has a gun in her hand and it's jammed up against his chin.

"Don't," she whispers. "Touch. Me."

"You are being most unreasonable, Agent Romanov," Loki tuts, eyeing the wound. "There is a staff medic who could--"

"I'm fine," she barks. "Leave."

Despite the barrel of the gun, Loki drops his chin enough to glare at her. "You are hurt. I am not leaving until you allow me to help you. Shoot me if you must. It will change nothing."

Thick, suffocating silence falls. Natasha's breathing is hard and raspy. The rest of the Vodka is kicking in thanks to the adrenaline rush. Damn him.

She lowers the gun, but keeps it in her hand. She jerks her head to one side and hobbles towards the bathroom. Loki trails behind her. She flops down on the edge of her garden tub and struggles out of the top half of the robe, which is now halfway soaked with blood on the inner lining. Loki examines her First Aid supplies and kneels in front of her with the iodine and gauze.

"How much Vodka have you had?" The demigod asks, his brow furrowing with worry as he examines the nasty wound.

"Whole bottle," Natasha grunts.

"Good. This is going to be quite unpleasant. I can numb the pain somewhat, but you will still feel some of it."

Natasha grins, but it's an ugly, defiant thing. "Just like old times."

"Do you not have an anesthetic?"

She shakes her head. "Makes me too drowsy, and we might have to leave again for another mission soon. Besides, you never know when it's laced with something. Iodine is simple, clean, and effective."

"Very well." He pours the iodine. Natasha bites down a scream and grips the edge of the tub with both hands until her knuckles blanch. Loki's hand glints with magic and he makes a quick gesture over her side. The pain's intensity lessens. The wound bubbles and fizzes, and he wipes away what's left, then holds the gauze against it to slow the bleeding.

"Why did you not ask the Captain to help you?" Loki asks rather quietly.

"Steve worries," Natasha says.

"You claim he is your friend. Is that not his right?"

"He is my friend, but he is also a man. If he saw that I was hurt, he'd bench me. The team needs me."

"I am sure they could get by without you as you recovered."

She shrugs one shoulder, wincing. "Better not risk it."

Loki smirks and picks up the needle she had already threaded. "My, what a convincing liar you are."

She glares. "I'm not lying."

"You don't want to appear vulnerable because you are a woman and because you are enamored with the Captain."

Natasha grits her teeth. "Now who's lying?"

Loki rolls his eyes and leans in closer as he starts stitching her up. "You can fool him and everyone else in this insipid facility, but not me, Agent Romanov. I've seen you both in action together. He reciprocates your feelings and yet you refuse to engage him. Why?"

"I'm about two seconds from shooting you if you keep this up."

"Waste your bullets if you must. You know I'm telling the truth."

Natasha closes her eyes and grips the tub harder as the needle continuously pierces her flesh. She realizes a moment later what he's doing: keeping her distracted and angry so she doesn't notice the pain as much. "Steve is a good man. He needs someone in his life that deserves him."

Loki stops, glancing up at her in surprise. Perhaps he'd expected another lie. She almost smiles that she's managed to shock him for once. She gives him a lopsided, self-deprecating grin before the eye contact feels too intimate and she turns it towards the closed bathroom door. Loki clears his throat and resumes his work, his voice softer this time.

"They trust you, you know. All of them. Yet here you are."

Natasha snorts. "Of all the people in this place, you should understand that most of all. Trust is fragile. Sure, they trust me now, but that doesn't mean deep down they don't wonder if I'll turn again. Once a double agent, always a double agent. A tiger can't change its stripes."

"What a complicated web you weave," Loki replies. "You care for them, fight for them, and yet you are afraid to show them the trust they have shown you."

"No more than you," Natasha says. "Thor would give his life for you without hesitation and you don't even want to give him the time of day."

Loki glares. "Careful, Agent Romanov. You'd best not speak of things you don't understand."

He ties off the last stitch and she stands, boldly pushing him to one side to grab an Ace bandage.

"What don't I understand, Loki? You've tried to kill him multiple times and faked your death twice. He mourned you each time. He just wants his brother back, but you're so self-involved that you either don't see it or don't care."

"Thor is a sentimental fool. He does not see me the way that I appear and that is his problem, not mine."

"Yeah," she says scornfully, smoothing the bandage down. "Exactly. Because you and I both know you're a vain, greedy, arrogant monster and you don't deserve his love anymore than I deserve Steve's."

Loki's hands slam down on the sink and suddenly she's pinned up against it with the God of Mischief towering over her, his green eyes glowing with rage and hurt. "And you know all about monsters, do you not, Agent Romanov? You are a liar and a killer, same as me. You are also completely alone and you know that you will always be this way because you can't stand the thought of being cared for since you know you'll just destroy it sooner or later."

"Yes," she says slowly, not backing down. "Just...like... _you_."

Loki works his jaw, his breathing harsh and rapid, as if he's controlling the violent impulses racing through him at her words.

Then he kisses her.

Maybe it's the Vodka. Maybe it's the fact that she's miserable and hurting and lonely. But the kiss is exactly what she needs at exactly the right second she needs it. It's brutish and selfish and filled with frantic need. His lips are softer than she thought they'd be. He grips the back of her neck, pulling her up into his body, into the heat of his chest and arms, his other hand sliding down her naked spine. Ravenous pleasure floods through her system, wiping away the aches and pains of battle. His fingertip traces the scar over her hip where the Winter Soldier shot her. His hand slides lower, down over her panties, and she arches into his palm on instinct, the overwhelming ecstasy of that one forbidden touch lighting her skin aflame.

He scoops her up and places her on the sink counter, shrugging out of his suit jacket, those huge, pale hands climbing up her thighs to her hips, caressing the delicate skin. She digs her nails into his shoulders, feeling power, strength, gripping a handful of his silken hair to guide the kiss. He grinds his hips up between her legs and she moans as she feels how hard he is for her.

Then her eyes fly open and she shoves him off of her as hard as she can.

"No," she whispers. She shakes her head once, twice, forcing herself to think past the thick fog of lust that had almost consumed her.

Loki licks his lips and brushes his hair out of his eyes. "What?"

"No," she says, firmer this time. "This is not going to happen, Loki. Get that through your head."

He stares at her, a hooded look. "You want me. You moaned into my mouth, Natasha. You moaned for me."

"I've done that for a lot of guys," she says flatly. "Doesn't mean it's going to happen."

A growl tears from his throat. "Why? You act as if it is your heart that I seek, Natasha. You know me better than that by now. You know what I seek. You know what I offer."

He closes in again, hovering close enough for his breath to brush her cheek. "I can offer you pleasures you've never even dreamt of. I will not and cannot hurt you. We are creatures of darkness, you and I. Different from them. Hide from them if you wish, but you have no need to hide what you are from me."

Her heart thunders in her chest as he kisses the spot beneath her ear, and her toes curl. For just a second, she nearly wavers. He's right. Loki has no interest in wooing her, in being her boyfriend, in falling in love with her. He can give her what she needs--solace, intimacy, sex. She won't have to worry about him getting jealous or being disappointed if he finds out the truth of who she is.

"You can't deny it," he whispers in her ear, his tongue grazing her lobe. "You want this, Natasha. You want me."

"No," she says softly. "I can't. But I don't need you. That's the difference."

He pushes back enough to stare into the surprisingly calm expression on her face. "You don't care about anything but yourself, Loki. How long would it be before you let it slip that you had me for yourself? We both know you'd use it against me. You'd be tempted to blackmail me by telling the others. You know it would ruin my reputation if they found out you and I had been together."

She settles her hands on his shoulders and pushes him back enough so she can stand up. She stoops and picks up his suit jacket, offering it to him. "And that's all there is to it. Thanks for the night cap."

Loki stares long and hard down at the assassin before him. Slowly, he takes the jacket and slides it on, buttoning it. "So be it. But I assure you, Natasha Romanov, there will come a time that you will need me."

That serpentine smile returns as he grips her wrist and lifts her hand to his mouth. "And I will not disappoint you."

He kisses it and then he's gone.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha confronts the hero and the madman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOPS MY HAND SLIPPED AND NOW THERE'S A LOVE TRIANGLE OH WELL SORRY GUYS.

 

_"Tap on my window_

_Knock on my door_

_I wanna make you feel beautiful_

_I know I tend to get so insecure_

_Doesn't matter anymore_

_It's not always rainbows and butterflies_

_It's compromise, it moves us along_

_My heart is full and my door's always open_

_You come any time you want, yeah_

_"I don't mind spending every day_

_Out on your corner in the pouring rain_

_Look for the girl with a broken smile_

_Ask her if she wants to stay a while_

_And she will be loved..."_

_-"She Will Be Loved" by Maroon 5_

She pretends she isn’t nervous when she knocks on the door. It doesn’t take long for it to open.

“Hey,” Steve says as he appears, smiling softly.

“Hey,” Natasha replies, stepping inside. With anyone else, she might have asked, but she’d been in his room often enough to know better. Steve isn’t a stickler for that sort of thing with her.

“Glad you came,” Steve says, shutting the door. “Was pretty sure you were going to say no.”

Natasha smirks as she grabs the cold beer already sitting on the counter, uncapped. “You offered free drinks. How could I say no?”

Steve chuckles and grabs the second bottle, clinking it together with hers. “True.”

He leans against the counter as she hops onto the stool. “So what’s on your mind, Rogers?”

He lifts an eyebrow. “Who says there’s anything on my mind?”

She sends him a look. “If there weren’t, we’d be in the gym or the rec room right now talking. You asked to meet me, and that implies in private. You don’t exactly have an agenda, but you’re definitely up to something.”

Steve hangs his head. “Even after all this time, I’m still transparent, huh?”

“I think it’s cute,” Nat confesses, grinning as he blushes slightly. “There aren’t a lot of honest men left out there, you know. It’s refreshing to look at you and know what you’re thinking most of the time.”

Steve sighs and straightens up a bit. “Guess that’s a good segway into what I wanted to talk to you about.”

She arches an eyebrow. “Which is?”

His smile fades. “Loki.”

Natasha doesn’t react, but her heart skips a beat. “What about him?”

“It’s none of my business,” he says gently, folding his arms. “But over the last couple weeks, I’ve noticed he’s been…looking at you differently.”

“Like how?”

His blue eyes harden. “The way a lion looks at a lioness.”

She almost smiles. “Thank you. If you had said a gazelle, I was going to break this bottle over your head.”

“Nat,” he says sternly. “I’m being serious. None of the others have noticed, but I have. I’m not worried for your safety; I know better than most that you can take care of yourself. But is there something you want to tell me? Just between the two of us?”

She finishes the beer and walks over to the fridge to get another one. “It’s no different from how Tony used to look at me when I first got assigned to him. Loki wants what he can’t have. He wanted the world to bow down to him and that didn’t happen. He wants me to bow down to him and that’s not going to happen.”

She slides back onto the stool. “And that’s all there is to it.”

Steve shakes his head. “Come on, Nat. If it was just the usual kind of looks, I wouldn’t have said anything. He looks like he’s trying to see _into_ you. Almost like he actually cares.”

Natasha frowns. “Doesn’t matter if that’s true or not. He’s a megalomaniac.”

“Agreed. I just can’t shake the feeling that it’s been affecting you.”

“It’s not.”

Steve sighs. “Nat, I’m not making an accusation. I just want you to talk to me. That’s all.”

She drinks more, not looking at him. She can feel her gut twisting with guilt. Some scared part of her hates how much he cares. She knows he’d never betray her trust. That’s what terrifies her most of all. She really can trust him, if she chooses to do it.

Finally, Natasha exhales and studies the countertop. “A couple weeks ago, I was…hurt. That night you dropped by, actually.”

He stiffens, but she holds up her hand. “I know, I know. It was dumb. I should have asked you for help, but you know how I get. Loki apparently noticed I got hurt during the fight and he stitched me up.”

Steve licks his lips. “And?”

“And he kissed me,” she whispers.

“Did you feel anything?”

She shrugs one shoulder. He nods. “And you think he did too?”

Again, she shrugs. “Makes sense. You said no and he’s not over it.”

She risks a glance at him. “This is the part where you tell me that’s awful and wrong.”

Steve meets her stare calmly. “And who the hell am I to throw stones, Nat? I’m not a saint. I’ve done some things that keep me up at night. Your personal life is your own. It’s not for me or anyone else to judge, ever. I was just worried he hurt you, that’s all.”

For an absurd split second, tears prick her eyes. She snorts, ignoring the sensation and draining the second bottle. “It didn’t get that far. It was just a kiss. It’s like getting the chance to pet a tiger. You do it once for the novelty, because you know if you stick your hand back in that cage, it’ll tear your whole arm off.”

“Okay,” Steve says. “If you tell me you’re alright and you can handle it, I believe you. But if you’re ever not…you know I’m here.”

“How’d you know something was bothering me?”

Steve twitches one shoulder and finishes his first beer before speaking. “Been around you enough to know the signs. Nothing obvious. The team didn’t notice, after all, not even Thor.”

“Maybe that’s your super power,” she muses. “Understanding women.”

Steve grins. “If only.”

He grabs a second beer for himself and a third one for her. She nibbles her lower lip as the comfortable silence stretches. “It wasn’t just the kiss.”

“No?”

“No,” she says, her pulse quickening. “He said something. It got under my skin a little.”

“Hey,” he whispers, brushing his hand over the back of her arm. “You don’t have to tell me if you’re not ready.”

“That’s the problem,” she mumbles.

“What is?”

“This,” she gestures to the apartment. “How this place is starting to feel…I don’t know. Safe? How easy it is to talk to you. It hasn’t been this way with anyone but Clint.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

She shuts her eyes. “No. Because I’m not in love with him.”

Steve freezes. She counts the seconds before he swallows and sets his beer down. Gently, he grips her knee and spins the stool so she’s facing him, but she can’t look into his eyes, not now. They’re dangerous.

“Nat,” Steve murmurs, brushing hair behind her ear. “You know how I feel about you. It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” she says hoarsely. “It’s selfish. Childish. Doomed to fail.”

He smiles faintly, sadly, but there’s sympathy on his features, not pity. “Since when have you been able to see the future?”

“I know my past. That’s enough. I take what I need and then I cut and run. It would only be a matter of time before I did it to you.”

“Nobody’s perfect, Nat. You never know unless you try. Maybe it could work and maybe not. But I’m damn sure willing to try if you are.” He leans in towards her, slowly, watching her reaction. He slides one arm around her back and presses his forehead to hers, breathing in the scent of her hair and perfume. She doesn’t fight it. He’s warm and he smells like a simple, inexpensive aftershave. He doesn’t kiss her. He just holds her, and somehow it’s one of the most intimate moments she’s ever shared with a man.

“I want to,” she whispers, resting her hands on his shoulders. “But I can’t stand the thought of being the woman who broke Captain America.”

She slides one hand up to cup his cheek, forcing herself to look at him this time. “You deserve better than that, Steve. Better than me.”

“Not possible,” Steve whispers back. “You’re the best person I know.”

She lets out a little sound somewhere between a sob and a laugh. “You need to get out more, Rogers.”

He smiles and tilts his face enough to brush the softest kiss over her lips. She nearly swoons. He rubs the small of her back a little and doesn’t kiss her again, and it creates an ache in her that she’s sure will never go away for as long as she lives.

“If you change your mind,” he tells her. “You know where to find me.”

“Yeah.” She starts to move away, but he gives her a little squeeze.

“Hey, you don’t have to go. Stay for a bit. I just started up this show called _Penny Dreadful_ and it’s pretty good.”

She shakes her head in amazement. “Late to the party as always, Rogers. Queue it up.”

He grins and grabs her hand, leading her over to the couch with that boyish grin that does things to her heart. She curls up on the couch, her legs in his lap, and he rubs her feet as the rest of the night wanders by, hour after hour, smile after smile.

-

Loki's not used to the sight of his own blood.

Granted, it had been a while since anyone had been formidable enough to land a blow that spilled it. Defending Asgard from Hela and her minions was a challenge, but he could handle a few dozen waves of reanimated corpses. This battle was different. It was one of their own, a refugee of Asgard gone rogue, discontent with humanity and the sons of Odin's choices to bring them to earth. It had turned nasty, requiring most of the team to take him down after he'd gotten ahold of some of Stark's tech when he attempted to assassinate Thor and overthrow what remained of the throne.

Naturally, Thor had offered to help with his injury, but Loki rebuffed him and stormed off to his rented room in the Avengers facility. He hates it here. He wants his own place, but his presence on earth--and not in some damned prison the laughable excuse of a sorceror would conjure up--means he can't risk it.

The wound isn't the worst he's ever suffered. Getting impaled through the chest by that mongrul under Malekith's control had been worse. It's nothing more than a stab wound, high up, not far from his collarbone on the left side. Most of the blood has already clotted by the time he returns to his quarters. Hissing, he shoulders the door open and waves a hand quickly, his armor disappearing from the waist up.

He stops.

"Evening, Loki," Natasha says coolly, perched on his couch as if she owns it.

The God of Mischief scowls and kicks the door shut with his heel. It slams loudly, like a gunshot.

"I believe the last time we spoke, you mentioned how distasteful it is to receive an uninvited guest," he growls. "Leave."

"And if I recall," she replies easily, standing up and crossing the room. "You ignored me and stayed anyway."

Her eyes find the oozing wound and he notices the bright light of recognition in them. She can tell it's severe, more than he let on when he left the team at the helipad. Asgardian weapons are the only ones that can leave a mark this bad.

"Besides," she continues. "I owe you. You patched me up and I'm returning the favor."

"Spare me, Agent Romanov," he snarls, striding past her towards the bathroom. "As you are well aware of, I work better alone."

"Not what I recall." She follows him. "Even Tony's noticed that you fight well alongside us."

"What other choice do I have? Obey your rules or you throw me to wolves." He turns on the sink and fills a washcloth with warm water, squeezing it out. "And I find that offensive. You and your Avengers fight like savages. It's no compliment to me to say I work well within your pathetic excuse of a team."

She snatches the washcloth out of his hand. "You're such a baby when you get hurt, you know that?"

She reaches for the wound and he catches her wrist, fire in his gaze. "I will only tell you this once more. Get out."

Natasha doesn't even blink. "Make me."

He slides one pale hand up to wrap around her throat. He doesn't squeeze. He just leaves it there. "Are you under the impression that I can't?"

"No. You won't."

Loki searches her gaze for a long, inscrutable moment. He drops both hands and instead crosses his arms. She pushes him to sit on the edge of the tub and carefully cleans the dried blood away from the wound.

"So do antiseptic and other sterilizing agents work on Asgardians?"

"We are largely immune to any infections we could contract from your dirty little planet," Loki grumbles. "However, I have no idea what was on that blade before it pierced my skin, so better safe than sorry."

"Right." She sifts through the cabinet and finds the First Aid kit that was standard issue in every room of the facility. "But there's also this."

She plucks a small tube off the back of her utility belt and tosses it to him. It's gunmetal grey and has sigils carved into it. Loki's brows raise in interest.

"Where did you get this?"

Natasha's lips twitch. "Thor."

Loki glares. "Where did the buffoon find something so rare?"

"He bought it from one of the Asgardians. Told me to give it to you."

Loki eyes her. "He knew you were coming to see me."

She just shrugs. "He knows you, Loki. You don't accept help and he's not willing to get in a fight with you over it, so he passed it on to me."

"You sound like my...what is the term...parole officer."

She smirks. "It's not entirely inaccurate."

Natasha returns with a brown bottle and a small, fresh towel, leaning down over him. He pretends to study the Asgardian healing agent, but it's just an excuse not to look at her. She smells like cinnamon. He grips the edge of the tub as the iodine sends spikes of pain jabbing through his entire upper torso. He grits his teeth, not wanting it to show. She wipes the excess off his chest and plucks the Asgardian healing agent from his fingers. Her brow lifts as a bizarre purple ooze drips onto her fingertips, but she just shrugs and smears it onto the wound. The damaged, puckered skin glows white and then to her utter shock, it re-knits itself and seals the wound completely. No scar, no mark.

"Wow," she mutters. "I'm keeping this."

Loki snorts. "I wouldn't do that if I were you. It was made on Asgard. As I understand it, if used on human beings, it causes temporary paralysis."

Natasha eyes him. "Now I'm definitely not giving it back to you. That sounds right up your alley, God of Mischief."

He frowns. "You think I'd use it on you?"

"No. Probably Tony."

Amusement flashes in his eyes then. "Ah."

Natasha sticks it back on her belt and crosses her arms, the humor retreating from her features. "You ready to talk about the fact that you got stabbed while you were trying to protect me?"

Loki's features flatten out until they remind her of a frozen lake. "Excuse me?"

"I had my back to him," she murmurs. "The sword would have impaled me."

She grabs his wrist and presses his hand to her chest, above her breasts but below her collarbone. "Here. It would have killed me instantly. The team didn't see it, but I did. What are you playing at, Loki?"

He inhales deeply and stands up, towering over her. "What do you care? You have already rejected my advances, Agent Romanov."

She doesn't flinch at his words. "This stopped being about sex a long time ago."

Loki grips her throat again and shoves her against the wall. "Is that right?"

Natasha stares at him, lifting her chin in silent defiance. Something in his chest constricts and then swells, spreading searing heat through him. He stares right back and trails his fingers down to the collar of her jumpsuit, unzipping it one inch at a time. He waits for her to stop him, but she doesn't. The zipper reaches her navel, exposing creamy skin and a glimpse of the soft curvature of her breasts. Loki's mouth waters at the sight.

"If this is not about sex," Loki whispers, pushing her jumpsuit to one side, exposing the outer edge of her lacy black bra. "Why haven't you stopped me yet?"

"You're going to stop yourself," she whispers back. "Because we both know we're past that point."

"Really?" He glides his fingers down over her ribs, past the spot where he'd patched her up. The skin there is rough, but healing. She suppresses a shudder as he strokes the scar it left behind, sending goosebumps flashing over her chest and abdomen. "You know me that well, do you?"

"I may be the only one who does."

"And whose fault is that?" He sinks to one knee and kisses the scar. Natasha bites her lower lip. His mouth is hot and his lips are soft. She regrets calling his bluff, but not as much as she should.

"Perhaps I should thank you for your healing touch, Natasha," the God of Mischief murmurs, sliding his lips down her flat, toned stomach. She inhales sharply as he licks her navel, tracing its shape, biting gently over her pelvis.

"We're even," she says weakly.

He flicks his heated gaze up at her, taking in the flush in her cheeks and the way her pupils are blown wide from the sudden intimate touch. He smirks and nods once. "So we are."

Loki kisses up the center of her body slowly, ending at her throat, and zips her suit back up. "Thank you for your assistance, Agent Romanov."

She licks her lips and clears her throat. "Glad to be of help."

Natasha heads for the door, but he calls out to her one last time. "If I recall correctly, I brought you a drink when I played healer for you."

She casts a glance over her shoulder. Then she smiles and walks out without saying a word.

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha finds out the hard way that Loki isn't called the God of Mischief for nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear, every time I think I'm going to end this fic, Loki chucks another monkey wrench into the machine and then stares at me with that shit-eating grin on his face. You extra motherfucker. 
> 
> I apologize if this initial interaction sounds slightly dub-con-y. It's not supposed to be. It's established that Nat reciprocates the attraction to Loki and he's just being an asshole.

 

_"What a way live_

_Back of your class_

_End of the line_

_You're always last_

_You can be_

_Oh, so mean_

_I just can't see_

_No in-between_

_You'll know what the sun's all about_

_When the lights go out..."_

_-"When the Lights Go Out" by The Black Keys_

 

Natasha finds out the hard way that Loki isn't called the God of Mischief for nothing.

Tony calls a team meeting in the conference room. Not everyone makes it--Vision and Wanda are off on an assignment already, as is Thor--so it's Bruce, Steve, Tony, Sam, Loki, and Nat. The other three sit towards the front of the wide, ovular table. She and Loki are in the rear at opposite ends, like the bad kids in the back of the class. Tony is standing up explaining the compound, the threat, the new equipment, and the entry points. It's roughly about a twenty minute rundown.

Loki begins halfway through.

At first, she thinks the sensation above her knee is just an itch. She scratches it, her eyes focused on the hologram of the compound. Then it returns. Again, she scratches.

Then what had been a slight tickle over her knee becomes a _caress_.

It's a slow sensation like someone running their hand up the inside of her inner thigh. She nearly yelps in surprise, glancing down in shock only to see a faint golden glimmer over the fabric of her black jeans. She tries to bat at it, but the magic is much like fog; it dissipates once her hand slides through it and reforms a second later. It climbs higher toward the side of her hip and the caress deepens, spreading startling pleasure through her core.

Natasha glances quickly at the others, but nothing's happening to them. Then it hits her.

She turns her head and sends a death glare at Loki.

Loki sits lazily sprawled in his chair--an old habit of an obscenely tall person--one long leg thrown over his knee, one hand pressed to his cheek as he stares boredly at the presentation. His other hand, however, is on the arm of the chair dangling over his lap, and she sees his pointer finger twirling with the same golden magic as the kind hovering over her body.

Natasha grits her teeth as the phantom touch slides across her flat stomach and tickles her belly button. She struggles, wanting to hiss his name, but the second she does, it'll interrupt the meeting and she'll look like an idiot. After all, he'll stop it the moment that she says something and the others will think she's insane except for Steve, who would immediately believe her.

She inhales deeply to keep her composure, slides her phone out of her jacket, and texts the God of Mischief. She hears a faint buzz and Loki takes his sweet time to check the message.

_Stop it or I will kill you right where you sit._

_Stop what?_

Natasha almost bursts into flame from the anger from that one reply.

_Last warning. Stop it._

_Perhaps you could be more specific, Agent Romanov._

The magic slides from her belly to between her legs.

Natasha drops the phone.

She slams her lips shut and holds her breath as heavenly pleasure pulses through her, her eyelids fluttering shut from the precious pressure building inside her. It's unlike anything she's ever experienced before; not simply a physical touch, but something that is warm and brilliant and so satisfying. Her nipples tighten to beads beneath the bra and the t-shirt. She grips the arms of the chair and tries to keep the elated expression off her face. It's dark and odds are no one will notice, and she finally understands. He wants her to call uncle. He thinks it's great fun to tease her, since she's beaten him at his own game more than once now. In some sick way, it's probably Loki's idea of foreplay, or at the very least, courtship.

Natasha bites her lip and crosses her legs, pressing her thighs together, and resumes watching the presentation. The magic steadily presses into her over and over again like a lover's patient touch and she reaches for that cool, calm demeanor she's always used in the field so that she won't break character. The God of Mischief will have to try a lot harder if he wants to win.

"Any questions?" Tony asks, and then the lights flick back on.

The magic vanishes as if it had never been there to begin with. Everyone shakes their head.

"Alright, class dismissed. Go out there and get 'em, kids."

Natasha flicks her hair to one side and stands up, proud that her knees are only slightly shaky as she exits the room. She catches a faint smug smirk on Loki's lips as she leaves. She waits until Sam, Bruce, Tony, and Steve have gone off in a small group to discuss their departure and then she pins Loki to the wall with a knife at his crotch.

"Agent Romanov," the God of Mischief purrs. "I do believe this is sexual harassment."

"If you ever," Natasha whispers. "Try that again, I'll make you a eunuch."

"You've been ignoring me for two weeks, Natasha," Loki says. "I had to get your attention somehow."

She narrows her eyes at him. "You think you're cute, don't you?"

"Don't you?" He hisses as she jabs the knife into him slightly. "I'm surprised at you. I thought the Black Widow would be up for some sport."

A slow, evil smile crawls across her lips. "Oh, that was sport, was it?"

"Are you not skilled in every possible scenario for seduction? I thought you would appreciate my attempts to get on the same level as a master of manipulation such as yourself."

"So that's your game, huh? I said no and so you've decided that you should provoke me into giving you what you want?"

Loki grins. "It's cute that you think it's only what I want, Agent Romanov."

Natasha leans back slightly, taking the pressure off the knife she had perilously close to the family jewels. Loki visibly relaxes and folds his arms, his brow lifting into a challenging look. "Well? Are you not up to the task, Black Widow?"

She tucks the knife away and crosses her arms. "Fine. Then we're making ground rules. You don't touch me with your magic again, period."

Loki nods. "I concede to that."

"First person to admit 'I yield' is the loser."

Loki licks his lips. "And what of the stakes?"

"If I lose, I'll make you dinner and give you that drink I owe you."

"And if you win?"

Natasha smiles. "You apologize to all of us for New York. Starting with Tony."

Loki's expression darkens for a moment, but then it switches back to his same careless arrogance. "We have an accord, Agent Romanov."

He offers his hand. Natasha grabs the front of his suit, jerks him down to her mouth, and plants a kiss on him that makes him forget how to breathe. She lets him go and he collapses back against the wall, panting heavily, his pupils dilated.

"What was that for?" Loki rasps, his entire body keyed up with sexual frustration.

Natasha smirks. "For luck."

She swivels on her heel and sashays away, a smile in her tone. "You're gonna need it."


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nat and Loki get an assignment on a beach. You know where this is going.

_Have love_

_Whoa, babe, I will travel_

_I said, if you need a loving man_

_Mm-hmm_

_I'll travel_

_I traveled from Maine to Mexico_

_Just to find a little girl that loves me so_

_No matter where, oh, no matter where I'll be_

_I'm looking for a woman that'll satisfy me..._

_-"Have Love Will Travel" by The Sonics_

 

There was a lot of unpleasant work as an Avenger, but Natasha has to admit this assignment isn't all bad. After all, she hasn't been on a beach in ages, let alone a private one reserved for the super rich and the super nasty. The latter she could have lived without, but it was main reason she'd been chosen for this mission.

And it was the same reason Loki had been chosen as well.

She'd all but demanded that they were given separate rooms. Steve had agreed. Tony had rolled his eyes and tried to push the evil power couple angle, but she fought it until he buckled. Loki sat there with his usual smug smile, his mad eyes laughing at her protest, as if he'd won their game, but he hadn't. She had plenty more up her sleeve.

Natasha pushes the doors to the hilariously extravagant hotel--even by Tony Stark's standards--open and struts down the polished marble steps with their gold-inlaid banisters. She slips on her sunglasses and takes stock of what's before her: a bar right out on the sand stocked to bursting with every kind of alcohol imaginable, a pit for grilled meats straight ahead, and a long stretch of hammocks and private comfortable lawn chairs underneath enormous umbrellas for the guests to laze about working on their tans.

Heads turn as she glides down smoothly in her sandals. She's more than used to it by now. She's sporting a crimson string bikini with black outlining. It draws attention to her pale skin in the most pleasant of ways, serving as an excellent distraction. She's bound her hair up for the moment to keep it off her neck in the hot sun.

She orders a mango cocktail at the bar and hops onto a stool, sipping mildly and searching for their target. It's much harder to hide a link in her ear out in the heat, so for the moment, she's on her own. She certainly doesn't mind.

Besides, it doesn't last long.

"Hubba hubba," the blonde next to her mutters around her straw, her brown eyes wide as she stares out over the shoreline. "He's new."

Natasha follows her gaze just in time to see Loki emerge from the ocean. She knows from tales of Thor that Loki is from Jotunheim, and somehow, she thought he'd look out of place on a sunny beach with white sands and frothing waters, but he doesn't. He reaches up and smooths a long-fingered hand through his wet mane to push it out of his eyes. The seawater is at waist level as he makes slow, purposeful strides back onto the sand, and every woman (and hell, a few men, Natasha notes) can't keep their eyes off of him. The water droplets all but caress his well-defined chest and abs, rolling down his arms like a lover's caress.

Natasha's mouth is a little dry. She sips her cocktail and pretends it's from the heat.

Loki makes a beeline for her, politely refusing the few women who jog up to flirt with him. They send her jealous glares that make her smirk, if only out of pettiness. After all, the threshold to even be admitted to this beach is just under five million dollars. They'll get over it.

The blonde next to Natasha licks her lips and smiles at Loki once he's within earshot. "And what's your name, darling?"

Loki spares her a glance and Natasha sees the calculations running in his head. His posture switches from that aggressive predator gait to something a little more seductive.

"Names are a dangerous thing, my pet," Loki tells the woman. "I prefer to keep things more anonymous."

Something feral and distinctly sexual slides into the blonde's eyes. "I like that in a man. Care to discuss it over a drink?"

"Sadly, I cannot. I am bound to my lady here." He gestures to Natasha.

Nat shrugs. "Hey, go for it, Casanova. Don't let me stop you."

"She likes playing hard to get," Loki clarifies.

The blonde flicks her gaze over Natasha. "Fair enough. I do swing both ways, you know. There are some very beautiful stretches of beach out here, in case you're interested in...exploring."

Natasha resists the urge to roll her eyes. "I'm flattered, but no thank you."

"And I am afraid we are a package deal," Loki finishes for her.

The blonde sighs. "Your loss, handsome."

She finishes her martini and heads back out into the sunlight. Loki takes her place on the stool next to Natasha.

"My pet?" Nat says, imitating his deep voice mockingly. "Is that what it sounds like when you flirt?"

Loki scoops the cocktail out of her hand and takes a sip. He winces. It's apparently too sweet for him. He hands it back. "Not at all. It's merely a role, as I'm sure you're more than familiar with."

"You're not usually this polite. What was different about her?"

"I've been out here for nearly an hour. I think she is the target's lady of leisure. An outright rejection doesn't suit our purpose. I intend to leave her wanting more and then infiltrate the inner circle that way to provide you support once you make your move."

"And what move is that exactly?"

Loki grins. "Don't play coy, my dear. I'm sure by now you've already spotted the target and you're rehearsing your opening line."

"I've been at this a long time. I don't need to rehearse anymore."

"Perhaps not." Loki flips through the drink menu and frowns. "I have yet to become acquainted with your type of alcohol. Any suggestions?"

Nat just can't help herself this time. "Sex on the beach."

Loki's head snaps up and his pupils dilate. "I beg your pardon?"

Nat turns to him and doesn't hide the shit-eating grin. "It's a type of drink."

He scowls at her, clearly disappointed. "Why do I feel as if that drink is constantly a cause for confusion?"

Nat shrugs. "It's part of the fun."

He eyes her, but orders the drink nonetheless. The bartender gives him a funny look, but still makes the drink anyhow. Loki sips it idly and people-watches with her for a while.

"Do you ever get to enjoy your assignments?" he asks.

"Not often. I think Tony knew I could use a break, though. He's trying to be sneaky and give me vacation time since I never take a day off."

"Understandable, I suppose. Even you can get burned out."

"Hasn't happened yet."

"And that's why it's so crucial that the Tin Man prevents it."

She shakes her head a little and suppresses a smile. She finishes the drink about the same time as Loki and they both step out onto the sand, but not before he buys suntan lotion from the vendor nearby. They pick one of the private spots among the lawn chairs. Loki hasn't started to tan just yet, and perhaps he won't at all, but he still applies it to his skin.

"If you wouldn't mind?" He offers her the bottle. Nat purses her lips, but accepts it.

"You're awful transparent today," she says, squirting the cool lotion into her palms and rubbing them together to warm them. "What gives?"

"Whatever do you mean, my dear?" Loki asks, scooting so his back is to her. "I assure you my intentions are pure."

A small mocking laugh escapes her. "Keep it up and lightning will strike."

She starts at the base of his neck, amused that he sucks in a quick breath and shivers a bit. Sensitive skin for an alien. Interesting.

What's even more interesting is that he tugs her legs on either side of him and starts massaging her feet while she rubs the lotion into his shoulders and spine. And he's actually good at it. Part of her wants to pull away out of pure instinct and wariness, but on the other hand, it's sort of intriguing. She knows he's still thinking about their game and he wants to win it. Still, it's not something the Loki who first arrived to earth would have even considered doing. Something in her belly flutters as she wonders for just a second if there has been a true change in him or if it's just another one of his masks.

His breathing steadies as her strong fingers massage his firm skin. She's pretty sure he's closed his eyes by this point. She finds it a bit soothing, which is weird. His fingers circle the ball of her foot and travel down to the arch, the heel, rising up towards the delicate bones of her ankle, over her toes, and then back in an endless cycle.

"Where did you learn this?" Nat asks, wiggling her toes.

"You might find it hard to believe, but there are women of Asgard who find me enthralling."

"Those poor misguided souls."

Loki snorts. It's an undignified, almost human noise and she finds herself liking the gesture from the would-be king. "Well, not everyone has such noble taste in men, Agent Romanov. We can't all be the Captain."

She frowns and starts to slide away, but he catches her legs. "Sorry. That was uncalled for."

Nat stares at the back of his head, shocked. "Did you just apologize to me?"

Loki's back straightens. He's surprised himself. "Apparently."

She's not sure what to say to that. As always, it could just be another part of his con, but he sounded sincere. Could he be...? Natasha shakes her head and finishes applying the lotion. Just for kicks, she trails her nails down his spine just to watch him squirm and then settles back in the chair. Loki resumes the foot massage. She almost drifts off for a nap between his strong, careful hands and the roar of the waves on the shore.

Several minutes later, Loki squeezes her calf gently and nods towards the bar. "We're on."

Nat slips her sunglasses down and sees their target buying a drink. "Yeah, I guess we are. Follow my lead."

He stands first and offers his hand to her, his smile coy. "Always, Natasha."

She knows better, but she still takes his hand anyway and lets him draw her to her feet. He lifts her hand to his mouth and kisses it, bowing slightly. "After you."

Nat rolls her eyes, but she's still smiling as she walks towards the bar with the God of Mischief at her heels.

They engage the target, set up a sale, eat lunch, and then return to the beach. Nat relays to Loki she intends to work on her tan and that he's free to entertain himself elsewhere, but he decides to stick around.

Nat stretches out on the beach towel beneath the umbrella, belly down, her arms folded beneath her head. Loki sets the cooler down next to her and she feels his eyes on her. "It has occurred to me that you wouldn't have been able to get the suntan lotion on your back earlier, Agent Romanov."

Nat cocks her head and gives him The Look: the one that even Tony knows to avoid or he'll wake up on a barge somewhere missing a kidney. Loki doesn't even flinch. Damn him. "I'll be alright."

Loki rolls his eyes. "I have a thing called restraint, Natasha."

She scowls down at the hot, white sand and recalls the last time she's had a sunburn on her back. She couldn't wear her jumpsuit for two straight weeks. Sadly, he's right. Bastard. "Fine."

She reaches behind her and unties the bikini top. Loki shuffles nervously. "And you are doing what exactly?"

"I don't want to get a tan line," Nat explains. "It's tacky."

She slips the strap over her head and continues lying completely flat so no one can see anything. "Well, get on with it."

Loki clears his throat. She bites her lip to keep from laughing at his apparent discomfort. He kneels beside her and squirts the lotion onto his hands.

Nat inhales quickly as his hands start at her shoulders. She can't tell if the lotion's cold or if it's his hands. His skin isn't cold, but he doesn't tend to run as warm as the average person. The few times she's touched Thor, his skin is always hot, as it likely takes a ton of energy to run that enormous muscle-bound body. Yet another contrast between the two of them.

"You're not very subtle, you know," Loki murmurs, and from so close with his hands on her bare skin, Nat suppresses a shiver.

"Hey, it was your idea," she points out. "I'm just taking advantage."

"Quite. I know men who would kill for such an opportunity. Myself included."

"How flattering. I might blush."

"Please do. It would be most endearing to see the Black Widow all a-flutter."

Nat rolls her eyes again. He presses on. "I can't imagine what a man would have to do to get you to blush. You don't embarrass easily."

"Like you're any different. From what you and Thor have told me, you're both thousands of years old. I can't imagine much makes you blush these days either."

She hears the grin in his voice as his hands sweep down her sides. "Roll over. Then you'll see it firsthand."

She chuckles in spite of herself. "You wish."

"You can't blame me for trying. It'd be a view worth the charge of indecent exposure."

His hands reach the small of her back. His thumbs swirl circles into her spine. Her toes curl. Her nipples tighten to beads against the towel. She starts breathing harder. Her heart hammers against her breast bone.

"Loki," Nat breathes.

His lips are suddenly next to her ear and the low hunger in his tone makes her shudder under those skillful fingers. "Do you yield, Agent Romanov?"

"Never."

He glides his hands up to her ribs, tracing the graceful curves, his fingertips just barely brushing the sensitive, flushed skin on the sides of her breasts. Aching need spills through her. She wants his hands on her breasts. She wants to feel that long frame pressed into her back, his lips on her ear, that velvet voice promising her a thousand nights of debauchery of epic proportions. For just a second, she lets her mind wander to what that would be like, indulging in the fantasy of straddling a god and riding him for all he's worth.

But only for a second.

Natasha slips the bikini top over her head and Loki draws away from her as she ties it back on. "Such unflinching will power. However do you manage such a thing?"

"Practice," she says blandly. "Wake me up when it's time for the deal to go down."

She settles down again and closes her eyes. Loki brushes a stray lock of red hair behind her ear as she drifts off to sleep.

"As you wish, Agent Romanov."


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki and Nat renegotiate the terms of their agreement.

_Maybe this is just a work of art_  
_Scripted players in a play of lust_  
_Hope the end is well worth waiting for_  
_Everything you wished it'd be_  
_Was it bitter when you tossed and turned_  
_On his undercover mattress?_  
_Did it feel so good?_  
_Hope it felt so good_  
_Don't know what I'd do if you lost sleep over little ole me_  
_You're so much better_  
_They're all much better_  
_Take off your sweater, your shoes, and your shirt_  
_And get to work..._  
_-"Red Hands" by The Dear Hunter_

Natasha hears the click of a gun and four words she's never wanted to hear.

"Drakov sends his regards."

Time slows to nothingness. She's been made. An unknown man had slipped out of the shadows and she'd heard the hammer click on the gun. Beretta .9mm. Two feet away. The target only sent her a knowing smile from where he sat at the table with the briefcase in front of him. Son of a bitch. She'd been set up.

She has seconds to respond or she'll die right here.

Nat's arm lashes out and she grabs the case, slinging it in a hard arc for the man behind her as he pulls the trigger. She throws herself into a crouch as the case whacks the back of his hand and the bullet hits the man in the chair, killing him instantly. She whips her leg at the gunman's knee and shatters it. He screams and the barrel of the gun lowers towards her face. She grabs his wrist and twists hard, breaking it, and the gun tumbles down into her waiting palm. She juts the muzzle up to his jaw and pulls the trigger three times, roaring as his brains explode onto the patio window.

The man's corpse drops to the ground. A circle of crimson floods outward towards her heels. She can hear screaming next door already and she shoves the window open, climbing onto the banister.

"Loki," Nat hisses into her earpiece as she hears someone pounding on the door. "Loki, I need an extraction. I have to jump or they'll find me."

He doesn't answer. "Loki, do you copy?"

Nothing. She stares down at the shore below. Three stories up. Technically, she might be able to make it if she lands exactly right. Best case scenario is she breaks both legs and has to crawl to cover and wait for Loki to find her homing beacon. The goons outside won't give her a better scenario.

She shuts her eyes for a second, finding the will to do it, and leaps out into the night air.

She's halfway down when Loki catches her in an almost elegant mid-air tackle.

It knocks the wind out of her when they land, but he shields her against his chest. They tumble into the long grass, hidden from sight, and he lands on top, panting from exertion. Nat lays there spitting out sand and staring at him in the moonlight.

"What?" she snaps. "Were you napping?"

Loki sighs. "I was busy taking out the rest of the guards amassing outside. I knew you'd been set up, but I couldn't warn you in time."

He glanced down at the blood splattered across her dress. "Are you hurt?"

"Just winded," she says, wincing. "Not my blood. Mind getting off of me?"

"Post haste," the God of Mischief says, sweeping her into his arms bridal style and slipping between the alleyway of the hotel nearby.

"I can walk," Nat growls, trying to wriggle free.

"You're already bruised from the skirmish," he tells her dismissively. "Hold still, damn you!"

He freezes as he hears voices snarling in Russian and peeks around the corner. Four men, armed, two at a time, sweeping the area. He glances up and analyzes just how high the rooftop is.

"Wrap your legs around me."

Nat arches an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"I need to climb up to the roof."

She sighs and wraps her arms around his neck, looping her legs around his narrow hips. To his credit, he doesn't make a double entendre or smirk. He sinks down slightly and then leaps. He makes it three stories and grabs the side of the building. He heaves his way onto the railing and then estimates the next jump as the men below entered the alleyway they had just been in. A flashlight hovers nearby and Loki jumps just in time and grabs the ledge. He hauls them up over the side of the roof and Nat breathes a sigh of relief. She uncurls her legs and Loki catches her waist to place her gently on her feet. They slip inside the hotel unnoticed and return to their rooms undiscovered by the patrol. Some time later, they hear sirens. The police go door to door and get statements but they don't find any evidence. It's nearly one am when it's all over and they can head back to the states the next morning. Nat gives the team a sit-rep and tucks herself into bed.

She doesn't fall asleep.

_"Drakov sends his regards."_

She shudders and pulls the covers back with a sigh after lying there for an hour trying to nod off with no success. She's still too cautious to wander onto the patio since any lingering lookouts might spot her, so she pours herself a drink. She finishes it in front of the flat screen TV watching infomercials and then hears a knock at the door.

Frowning, Nat grabs her gun and holds it behind her back as she checks the peephole. She groans slightly and sets the gun on the counter before prying the door open.

"What do you want, Loki?"

"I heard the TV through the wall."

"And?"

"And," he elaborates with mild annoyance in his tone. "It is nearly three am. You should be asleep by now."

"I'm a spy, Loki. We keep late hours."

"Natasha," he says, narrowing his eyes at her. "Are you going to let me in or shall I invite myself in?"

"You're insufferable." She steps to one side and he slips inside.

He's not wearing a full suit for once; just a long-sleeved V-neck shirt, loose track pants, and slippers. It boggles her mind that the God of Mischief doesn't sleep in some kind of fancy, pretentious outfit leftover from Asgard. She nearly wants to take a picture of it with her phone just to prove it actually happened.

"And just what do you intend to do about my insomnia?" Nat asks as she locks the door back behind them. "Read me a bedtime story?"

"I am no stranger to sleepless nights," Loki says, gliding over to the mini-bar. He pours them both scotch and returns, offering her a glass. "I thought we might start by talking."

Nat sips the scotch. "Oh, yeah? Talk about what?"

Loki's eyes penetrate her. "That this was about Drakov's daughter."

Natasha's heart rate triples. Images flicker through her mind. She tries not to flinch at the memories. She drains the scotch in one go and puts it back on the bar. "There's nothing to discuss. Both of the men responsible are dead. It's over."

"It is over for them. Not you. I can see it in your eyes, Natasha. Don't pretend like it didn't affect you."

"And what are you going to do about it if it did?" she snaps. "Hold me in your giant condor arms and make me feel better? Look, I know you want to win our wager but this is out of line even for you--"

"This isn't about the damned wager," Loki snarls. "Everything isn't always about conquest, Agent Romanov. Do you understand that you could have died tonight due to your miscalculation? Due to your insistence that you could pull off the exchange without my help?"

"It was a calculated risk. Don't get your panties in a bunch." She brushes past him and he grabs her elbow. She freezes.

"Let go of me or that hand will never touch another thing again."

Loki drains the scotch and drops it to the coffee table, his grip still hard on her arm. "As formidable as you are, I think we both know that's not going happen. I am not afraid of you, Natasha. You can hide from yourself, but you cannot hide from me. I know why you pushed to make this exchange by yourself. I know what lurks in your heart."

She swings her fist at his head. He dodges the blow and grabs her wrist, twisting her arm with vicious strength and speed. He catches her other wrist as well and whirls her to face away from him, pinning her arms crossed over one another and crushing her to his chest.

"Guilt," Loki whispers in her ear. "Something inside you knew the deal didn't feel right. You wanted to know the truth. You wanted closure. Part of you wanted to pay for your crimes."

"This is your last fucking warning, Loki," Natasha whispers. "Take your hands off me or I will kill you."

"I am the king of liars, my darling Agent Romanov. I know a lie when I hear it. Are you so tortured by your former actions that you would intentionally endanger your life? Are you so convinced that you have nothing to live for that you would throw yourself to the wolves?"

"What do you care, Loki? That you'll be cheated of your prize? Stop pretending like you give a damn about anything aside from yourself."

"I didn't take that sword through the chest to watch you throw your life away because of what they did to you."

Natasha stiffens against him. She licks her lips, absorbing what he'd said in the suddenly deafening silence. He lets it sink in and then slowly his grip on her wrists loosens from a vise to just his hands on her bare skin again.

"Whatever you're feeling, death is not the solution. There are people who care if you live or die and you owe it to them not to ever put yourself in that position again. I understand that perhaps more than anyone else with my thick-headed brother always tripping over himself to save me. Your actions affect others more than you think, Natasha. Next time, choose wisely."

He lets her arms slip free, but he doesn't step away from her. She feels the heat from his chest, his abs, and hears his knuckles popping as his hands clench into fists.

Natasha tilts her head to one side, looking at him obliquely. "Were you worried about me?"

He slides his hands over her shoulders and squeezes slightly. "What do you think, you bloody sow?"

Nat chokes on a laugh. "Call me that again and I'll castrate you."

His lips brush her temple. "I'm trembling in fear."

His fingers glide down her arms. "And apparently, I'm not the only one."

"Loki," she murmurs in warning. "This wasn't part of the deal."

"You're right. But don't you think perhaps we should reconsider the terms?"

"And why would I allow that?"

"We are hundreds of miles from your companions. There is no chance of being caught. It's just the two of us out here."

"That doesn't change what I said before. We work together. How long before we're at each other's throats and you let it slip that we slept together?"

"If you're so convinced of that, you may bind me with magic so that I am unable to speak of such an affair."

Natasha frowns. "I don't believe you'd really do that."

"It is a price I am willing pay for this." He grips her hips and tugs her back until she feels his arousal against her ass. Natasha bites her lip. Lust fogs her mind. Adrenaline pulses through her until she feels short of breath.

"Bind me, Natasha," Loki purrs, inching the tank top over her stomach with his fingertips. "I give you my word I will fulfill your every need with exceeding exuberance, if only for tonight."

"Once wouldn't be enough," she panted out, shivering as he nipped her ear lobe. "You know that."

"I am a master of illusions, of concealment. Should you request my services again, I can be discrete. If you so desire, I can even reach through your dreams instead to sate you."

Her eyes flutter closed as one of his hands slip under her shirt, gliding up the flat plains of her stomach, up over the edge of the bra. He hesitates for only a breath and then slides it inside the cup, gripping the tender flesh. He licks the sensitive spot where her ear meets her jaw as his thumb strokes down over her hardened nipple, gentle but insistent. The other hand dips low over her hip and down into her shorts. She hisses as he runs his fingertip across the smooth, soft skin above her pelvis, nearly grazing her oppressively hot, wet opening but never touching it. She realizes he's waiting for her consent to move further.

"Bind me to you," he whispers. "And I will give you everything."

Her iron will power shatters around her.

"How?"

"Repeat after me," Loki murmurs. "Loki, God of Mischief, I bind you by the power of the Yggdrasil to speak nothing of the nature of our union to anyone dead or alive, past or present."

Natasha licks her lips. Her voice comes out husky, but steady. "Loki, God of Mischief, I bind you by the power of the Yggdrasil to speak nothing of the nature of our union to anyone dead or alive, past or present."

The same golden mist from the week before she'd seen floods over his hands, up his arms, over his entire body and she catches a glimpse of it forming a metaphysical collar around his neck. It glows and then the magic dissipates.

"My dear Natasha," the God of Mischief whispers. "How may I serve you?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo the rating's gonna go up next chapter. Just warning you. *evil laugh*
> 
> Don't worry--I only laugh because Avengers: Infinity War has left me dead inside. 
> 
> *tucks Loki safely beneath her Denial Blanket and brushes his hair*

**Author's Note:**

> LOKI YOU LIL SHIT I SWEAR TO GOD WHEN DID I START TO LOVE YOU AS A CHARACTER YOU ARROGANT DICK.


End file.
